Flowers and Tears

I gave flowers once
pretty as momma
placed with loving care in an album, I
was not pretty enough for
found 'em in the trash
climbed in to be with
and never gave flowers again.

Held a flower in my hand
after the last "no more"
again pretty red petals trembled
to the rhythm of my shaking will
surrendered to a love of more hope than lived
laying face down on the floor
my red demanded was little to ask
never so lovely as his crimson apologizes
'till the day
I accepted flowers no more.

Their message lost throughout the years
pure, perfect, mutated into symbols of sorrow
a fragrant whimsy of true love expressing
always just...out of reach.

Laying here surrounded with love
wrapped safe and warm by you
my eyes open to wild sweetness
daisies on the nightstand
given, just because
and it makes me want to cry
staring into bright yellow hearts
always knowing their place in this world.

A gift, once tossed and abused
my flowers have come home
to a heart that always adored
waiting to be adored
with flowers
with love
from you.